


Oh Baby Yeah

by AirgiodSLV



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Spencer knows that moan.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Baby Yeah

**Author's Note:**

> My friends-list has seemed a little down, sick, or stressed lately overall, so this bit of flufftasticness is for everyone who needs a pick-me-up. Beta by the lovely [](http://tabbyola.livejournal.com/profile)[**tabbyola**](http://tabbyola.livejournal.com/)

Nearly anyone who knows them would say Panic! at the Disco is a tighter-knit band than most. Even the split hadn’t changed that, not really. It had gotten awkward, sure, but there isn’t much that can keep Spencer apart from Jon for long, much less Ryan.

It isn’t a terrific surprise, then, when Spencer’s phone buzzes with an e-mail from Jon with the subject line :-) and a link to a porn site. Jon’s way of supporting Spencer’s gayness had eventually surfaced as a supply line for porn Jon thought Spencer might enjoy, and while other people who aren’t them might find that a little weird, Spencer isn’t about to object. It’s a sign of friendship. And besides, Jon is some sort of good-porn-finding wizard or something.

There isn’t anything else going on at the moment, so he takes his laptop into his bedroom and kicks the door shut gently so that he will at least have the half-second warning of the doorknob turning before Brendon barges in. Brendon had grown up with a half-dozen siblings; he doesn’t always comprehend courtesies such as ‘knock before entering.’

The link is to an animated site and a short film featuring some sort of cat-people having crazy cat-person sex on a spaceship. There are all sorts of shiny metal devices in the background, and a vase of multicolored futuristic daisies on the nightstand. Spencer texts Jon _I like the daisies_ and Jon texts back almost immediately with :-) :-) :-).

He’s in here now, and the cat-people are interesting but not really doing anything for him, so he starts clicking around the site. There are a couple of other films that look cool, all animated, most featuring some sort of science fiction/fantasy element. He finds one with a couple of guys on the moon or something and leans back to watch, tucking an arm behind his head and turning the sound up on his headphones.

The animation is really good; he can see why Jon’s sent him here. This clip looks like it ought to be interesting, a lot of kissing and rumbling pleased noises as the characters christen new territory for mankind. He’s just reaching down to give himself a lazy feel when foreplay turns into sex onscreen, and the animated spaceman on Spencer’s laptop opens his mouth and starts moaning.

Spencer knows that moan. He knows it both from hearing it through the wall in hotels and on buses, and because this particular version of it happens onstage twenty feet away from him every night.

He hits pause. Then he hits play again. Then he gets weirded out and hits pause, and he keeps telling himself that he’s imagining it and it’s coincidence, so he hits play again, but there really is no getting around the fact that the spacesuit-wearing cartoon dude taking it up the ass on the screen has Brendon’s voice.

“ _Oh, oh, oh, yeah, ohhh…_ ” Brendon moans, and Spencer turns that shit right off.

He doesn’t close the window, though, even though his finger hovers over the button and he feels like he really, really _should._ It could be that this is all in his fevered imagination, though, so he copies the link into an e-mail and sends it to Jon with the subject line _does this sound like anyone?_

It takes Jon five minutes to respond, and those may be the longest five minutes of Spencer’s life. He dicks around in his e-mail and looks at some random forwards his mom sent, then feels dirty looking at pictures of kittens from his mom when he can still hear Brendon moaning in his head, and he opens up a game of minesweeper but doesn’t really feel like playing, so…

He hits play again.

The animated guy doesn’t look anything like Brendon, not even a little bit. He’s got inhuman muscle mass and a tiny waist and his ass is nowhere near as…

Spencer cuts that thought off right there, and then makes the mistake of closing his eyes, just to get a clearer impression of the voice, to convince himself it’s not who he thinks it is. There’s no way. It can’t be.

“ _Fuck, yeah, fuck me,_ ” Brendon gasps, and then Spencer’s phone buzzes and Spencer nearly drops his laptop off the side of the bed when he freaks out.

The text is from Jon, and it reads _OH MY GOD_ , which means that at least if Spencer’s imagining things, he’s not the only one.

His project for the next two hours is scouring the website ruthlessly for copyright dates, studio locations, anything and everything that might prove this conclusively one way or another, while mostly ignoring Jon’s texts of _AHAHAHA_ and _did you tell him?_ and _found another one!!!_

Spencer doesn’t ignore that one. He clicks on the link.

This guy actually looks more like Brendon, if only in a superficial way; slimmer, not so much muscle, great ass. Spencer didn’t just think that. Anyway, he gets a little caught up in watching, and maybe palming himself through his jeans, and when Brendon’s voice through his headphones turns into Brendon’s voice calling him from another part of the house, it takes his brain a second to make the distinction.

“Spence?” Brendon calls again, and Spencer manages to shut every single incriminating window on his computer, yank off his headphones, and position the laptop strategically over his erection in the three seconds before Brendon opens the bedroom door.

“Dude,” he says, smile growing slowly. “Dude, were you beating off?”

“No,” Spencer says, too quickly and too vehemently. Brendon laughs, obnoxious and friendly, and backs away with both hands up.

“I was going to say we should call for pizza, but if you’re busy in here, I can handle it. If you’ve got other things to _handle_ ,” he jokes, waggling his ridiculous eyebrows. Spencer nearly throws a pillow at him, but he doesn’t want to risk the laptop slipping enough to prove Brendon’s theory correct. Even if he is.

His phone buzzes twice in a row, and Brendon’s expression changes, well-meaning mockery forgotten. “Oh, is that Jon? Is he sending you stuff again? Let me see.”

There’s no chance of getting out of this one gracefully. Spencer slaps a hand down over his phone, slams his laptop shut, and yelps, “No!”

Brendon gives him an extremely weird look, which is fair enough, because usually Spencer’s a little flustered when it comes to sharing porn, but they’ve been watching stuff together since they were in high school and technically not old enough to see it, so it’s not all _that_ awkward. Spencer is being extremely awkward.

“Maybe later,” he says lamely, and Brendon’s expression doesn’t really change, but he backs off.

“Okay,” he says, rocking backwards on his heels and out through the doorway. “Your prerogative, dude. I’m still calling for pizza.”

Spencer has just taken a deep breath of relief when Brendon calls back, “You know I can always go through Jon!”

Spencer deletes every text from Jon, because he knows Brendon goes through his phone when he’s bored, clears out his e-mail, his messenger, and his browser history.

Not, however, before saving both movies to a locked folder on his hard drive.

*

Jon tells Ryan. Spencer doesn’t figure it out for a while, because the text from Ryan just says _weeeeird_ , and that could be referring to anything from venom-spitting reptiles to the fact that he’d seen an alien head in his coffee grounds that morning.

After that he gets slightly nervous, because Ryan can’t keep a secret to save his life. It’s probably the only good thing to come out of the fact that Ryan and Brendon still aren’t really talking much, but Spencer knows that the first time they fight, that shit’s going to hit the fan. He doesn’t ever want to be the reason, even inadvertently, that Brendon ends up looking like he’s been slapped.

It does mean, though, that he can appeal to Ryan for advice. Not that he’ll ever take it, but getting advice from Ryan usually leaves Spencer with a clearer idea of what he _doesn’t_ want to do. He considers writing the company for the names of people in the movies, but they have no reason and probably legally aren’t able to give those to him, and all the information he can turn up on the company itself is generic and points to a P.O. box in New York.

He just wants to know for sure. Mostly he wants to know when, because he feels like that’s the kind of thing friends should tell each other, and he’s been friends with Brendon since long before he should have been doing something like this. He finally texts Ryan _should I ask him?_ and then spends half an hour playing video games and not thinking about how he could conceivably fly to New York, find the company and impersonate a government officer in order to get a look at their employee list.

Ryan texts back _not a big deal_ , which might be what he thinks, but Spencer is of a different opinion. _I just don’t want him to find them on my computer and think something,_ he sends finally, because that is his greatest fear at the moment. He’s been keeping it within reach 24/7 for the last few days, but Brendon is already suspicious and is eventually going to find a sneaky way of getting into it while Spencer’s out walking the dogs or something.

Ryan’s reply this time is much more prompt. _you still HAVE IT?_

Spencer deletes his texts again, hides his phone under his pillow, and opens the folder with the saved files. He hovers over ‘delete’ and ‘play’ in turn, dithering until Brendon finally comes home with an enormous Starbucks cup in hand and oversized sunglasses perched ridiculously on his dork face.

“Yo, dude,” Brendon says, jangling his keys in one hand for a few seconds before tossing them into the bowl by the door. “What’s up?”

Spencer can’t think of a better way to do this, so he just sighs, spins his laptop around, and hits play.

Brendon takes a few seconds to clue in, watching the set-up onscreen with a vaguely puzzled look that says he thinks he’s seen this one before but doesn’t understand the significance, and then Brendon’s character (Spencer can’t think of him as anything else) mumbles “ _oh fuck yeah_ ” under his breath and Brendon’s eyes widen comically almost like a cartoon.

Not at all like a cartoon. That’s not what Spencer meant.

“Oh wow,” Brendon says, and laughs a little awkwardly, but he comes around to sit on the sofa across from Spencer’s armchair, setting his cup down on the coffee table. “Where did you even find this? Was it online?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says, or tries to say; his voice comes out a little rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah. Well. Jon did, sort of.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Brendon answers, but he doesn’t seem all that upset about it. He watches the action happening on Spencer’s laptop for a few minutes before looking up and saying with a funny quirk to his mouth, “I guess you probably want to know why I did it.”

“So that is you,” Spencer says blankly. He feels like the air just went whooshing out of his lungs, and he can’t tell yet if it’s relief or nervousness.

Brendon laughs. “Yeah, dude, it’s me. You obviously figured that out. I mean, I do have a very manly porn moan, I’ve always thought.” He picks up his Starbucks cup to slurp at it, watching the screen again. Spencer feels like the whole moment is slightly surreal.

“But, I mean.” He pauses, then gets right to it. “ _Why?_ ”

Brendon shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno, dude, it was back when we were still in school. I found out about it from my skeezy neighbor, and it wasn’t like…I was eighteen, so I could do it, and I wasn’t making a lot back then, y’know? I was getting pretty sick of ramen.”

Spencer stares. “Brendon…” he starts, not really sure yet where he’s going with it.

“It’s not a big deal,” Brendon says quickly. “It was like, you and your parents were awesome, and everyone was cool, I wasn’t going to complain or anything, like, woe is me, you’ve only given me your leftovers from every Sunday dinner and it’s not good enough. I just thought a little extra cash might not hurt, that’s all. And it’s a _voice-over._ ” He indicates the screen with his straw. “I mean, come on, dude, if some guy, skeezy or not, offered you a few hundred bucks to record the soundtrack to a porno when you were eighteen, you wouldn’t have done it?”

Put that way, it does give Spencer pause. “So this is it?” he asks. “You don’t have, like, a secret career in porn I should know about, or anything?”

“Nah, this is it. Well, I did three, so it’s not just this one, but it’s all voice-over animation stuff. It was actually a kickass time, once I got over being embarrassed. I mean, dude. Porn noises.” He grins, and Spencer smiles back at him, feeling the anxiety of the past few days gradually ease. “I didn’t do any live action flicks or anything. I mean, fuck, that would be awkward, right? Having someone come across that, now that I’m famous? All our fans soaking their panties over something I did when I was eighteen with horrible hair and glasses?” His eyes widen again in sudden delight. “Oh, dude, did you jerk off to me?”

“What?” Spencer asks reflexively, and then says, “No,” with a minimum amount of stuttering. Brendon’s laughing anyway.

“That would be hilarious,” he says. “Like, you’re trying to bang one out and all of sudden I show up in the middle and you’re all _what the fuck?_ ”

“That was not how it happened,” Spencer says, sternly to cover his flush. And it isn’t, anyway. The fact that he’s considered it since then is immaterial. He hasn’t actually _done it_.

“Yeah, well, you should have, I’m amazing.” Brendon says, standing up and slurping his coffee again. “Born to be porn, that’s me. All the dudes want a piece of this.” He slaps his chest with his cup and sends a trickle of coffee down his shirt front.

“Oh yeah,” Spencer drawls. “Sex on legs.”

“You better believe it,” Brendon answers, grinning.

It feels resolved, and like they’re totally okay, which is why it doesn’t matter that Spencer forgets to delete the files before he closes his laptop.

*

Spencer actually does put it all out of his mind the next day, at least until he hears Brendon on the phone with someone who must be Jon, laughing and cracking jokes.

“No, it was just like recording, actually. I mean, way skankier, dude, seriously, but like, the same equipment. Probably better than when we recorded the first album.” A laugh. “No, I’m totally going to work that in. Porn noises in the background, total homage.” There’s a snatch of something Spencer recognizes as a discarded guitar riff and then Brendon adds, “No, yeah, Spence will totally go for it. I’ll tell him it’s our new direction. The future is porn!”

Bogart is handy, so Spencer grabs a leash and goes for a walk to clear his head. When he gets back, Brendon’s in their makeshift studio, working. He’s on the drums, so Spencer leaves him alone to work out his ideas and goes online instead.

He surfs around for a while, and eventually owns up to the fact that what he really wants to do is watch porn. It’s not his fault; after the Brendon situation and everything, he hasn’t turned on a porno to beat off to in nearly a week. And Brendon had been talking about it earlier, and Spencer had resisted temptation where the animated clips were concerned, so really, the universe owes him this one.

He turns on some low music, not enough to drown out Brendon pounding on his kit, but enough to be heard outside the door. Brendon will probably knock first if he hears that Spencer’s listening to emo, and anyway, this will make it more obvious when (if) the sound of the drums cuts out.

He does _not_ open up the folder with Brendon’s films. Instead, he goes for one of his tried-and-true favorites, a couple of guys messing around on a bed and fucking. There’s nothing spectacular about it, but it’s good quality and the guys are hot. If the bottom happens to look a lot like Brendon when Spencer squints, that’s totally a coincidence.

He’s still getting into the mood, playing with his nipples and rubbing his crotch through his pants, but the guys are vocal – another thing he loves about this movie – and he gets more into it than he’d expected, so it’s a cold-water shock to hear, under the sound of the guys jerking each other and grunting, Brendon’s voice moaning “ _fuck, fuck, oh, ah, ah, ah, yeah, right…_ ”

Spencer promptly flips out. He minimizes his windows, turns off the sound, shuts down every program he has running, hits pause about ten thousand times, and only then realizes that the sound isn’t coming from his computer accidentally starting up one of the movies, it’s coming _through the wall_.

He slams his laptop shut, yanks his shirt down and storms next door, where Brendon is perched on his bed and enthusiastically knocking the headboard into the wall, chanting, “ _mmm, mmm, oh, baby, give it to me, yeah_ ,” with an expression of evil glee.

“Not funny,” Spencer says flatly, crossing his arms and glaring. Brendon doubles over laughing, hand clutching his side.

“Dude,” he says. “Dude, it’s totally funny. Come on, you only close your door and put on Jimmy Eat World when you’re getting off, everyone knows that.”

Spencer is momentarily flustered. “Everyone does _not_ know that,” he argues. How did _Brendon_ even know that?

“They totally do,” Brendon informs him, smirking. “Ask Ross. He’s the one who told me. Or, well, you also come out afterward looking considerably more relaxed and a little dopey, so we all know, yeah.”

“I wasn’t jerking off!” Spencer insists, voice much higher than it really ought to be, considering that they’ve shared a bus and a hotel room and an air mattress before, and jerking off has become an established reality of living in close quarters.

“Your fly is open,” Brendon tells him solemnly, and Spencer goes beet red and hot as a sunburn while he fumbles with his pants, only to discover that Brendon is a liar and also an asshole.

“Your face!” Brendon cackles, doubled over again and laughing too hard to breathe.

“Ha ha, funny,” Spencer replies, glowering. “You’re an asshole.”

“Dude, it’s not like I thought you were actually jerking off to me,” Brendon says, straightening up a little but still grinning. Then the grin fades slightly, turning quizzical. “Were you…dude. Were you jerking off to my voice?”

“No,” Spencer answers, but it’s not like he hasn’t, in a way. It’s not like he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and imagined turning the audio up and closing his eyes while the movie played, so that he could fantasize about what Brendon would sound like getting fucked.

“Oh, wow,” Brendon says, standing up too fast from the bed, and Spencer is abruptly, acutely uncomfortable in here. In Brendon’s bedroom. Where Brendon’s almost definitely jerked off before. In that bed.

“I didn’t,” Spencer repeats, low-voiced, as Brendon takes a few curious steps forward.

“Yeah,” Brendon agrees. He bites his lip – Spencer falls right into it, eyes drawn like a magnet – and asks, “Did you want to, though?”

Swallowing and opening his mouth to answer is suddenly the hardest thing in the world. “Maybe,” he says.

“Huh,” Brendon says eloquently. Then, “Is it a voice thing? Or did you, like, want to, with me?”

Spencer has to hand it to him, Brendon is going right for the jugular on this one. Direct has always been his style. “It’s not a voice thing,” Spencer hazards finally.

Brendon looks at him for a while longer, and then a smile blooms across his face. “Well, in that case,” he says, “do you want to stay for a while? Make yourself comfortable? I think I might even have a copy of _Clarity_ in here if you need it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Spencer says, but it’s laughing and breathless.

Brendon waggles his eyebrows. “One thing at a time,” he says, and Spencer’s not about to argue with that.


End file.
